


Two asshole brunettes

by Theo_Lannister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caught, Christmas Fluff, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Modern Westeros, Random & Short, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Lannister/pseuds/Theo_Lannister
Summary: Jon Snow hadn't been in a real relationship in months. He leaves his dorm room at Oldtown University and goes to the Lighthouse Club. There, he gets drunk and has sex.Sex with his cousin's best friends.Everyone thinks they are too similar.





	Two asshole brunettes

**Author's Note:**

> Before you proceed: I'm sorry. I thought up the sex scene one night, and I just had to do something more. Sorry I wasn't working on Dornish Sands

Jon was thoroughly drunk when he went to the bar. His knees ached and his stomach's constant aches told him he hadn't eaten enough. But he was tired, hungry and horny. He hadn't had sex in over three months since he broke up with Ygritte. It had been a messy breakup, all had agreed. Her football club was run by Mance Rayder though, and Jeor Mormont, the coach of the "Night's Watch" football club had despised each other. So they found themselves thoroughly broken up. Since then, Robb and his football friends had all furiously investigated all the other girls he had shown interest in. He had tried dating Val and Alys, both of which were scared off by the investigations. So instead, Jon was alone and tired.

So now Jon was alone and drunk in some tight, overheated loud club called The Citadel. He had leaned against the bar. Originally, he had come to the bar to steady himself. Well, that wasn't accurate, he had come to the bar to get disgustingly drunk, but more specifically he leaned against the bar's bar to make sure he wouldn't fall flat on his face and choke on his own vomit. But then he saw a cute looking girl with brown hair. Well, he hoped she was pretty, although he doubted he would be able to tell in his current state of intoxication. From what he could see, she had light brown hair that stretched down to her rear, a rear which was partially covered but a small tight black dress. He figured that her dark ringlets covered a pretty face. So, Jon reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

He hoped that his leaning against the counter made him look casual and filled with strength, though the way the girl looked at him up and doubt, he had no doubt that she had noticed how intoxicated he was. She said something, but he didn't quite hear what it was. He thought he had heard something about 'do.' So, being the sly bastard that he was, he offered his attempt to seduce her in a sentence, "Now, we can either 'do' some shots or anything you want to do." He hiccuped at the end, and she giggled. It was a cute giggle. He smiled.

"Let's get some shots!" she shouted. She was pretty, with rosy cheeks and a round face. She had a cute, small nose that fit with her ears and face. Her eyes were brown as well, though darker than her hair, but both were gorgeous and seemed to shine in the light. Her face was flushed, though whether it was from alcohol, heat or mock coyness, Jon wasn't sure. He was positive he would have been able to tell when he was sober, but he didn't know. But Jon Snow did know one thing. She was into him.

"Want to skip the shots?!" He near yelled to her over the loud club music.

"Sure! But instead of shots, can you get me a pink drink!?"

"One pink drink please!" he shouted at the bartender. He wasn't sure that the bartender could hear him, so he pulled out his wallet and tossed it at the bartender's head, then he said it again. I'll regret that in the morning, he thought to himself.

"You're going to miss that wallet!" the brunette yelled at him, giggling as she spoke.

"It's worth it for you!" He smiled.

* * *

He had quite an awful headache when he woke up. The girl's apartment had a window on the east and north walls, both covered in a monstrously thick curtain. Or at least they would be covered.

He saw a girl with red hair wearing a pair of oversized grey pajama pants emblazoned with little white wolves. He recognized those pants. His uncle Brandon had gotten him those for his birthday, but he had lost it at Christmas almost four years ago. "Sansa?" he asked in a groggy, tired voice.

The girl turned around, her blue eyes filled with shock, "Jon?" she replied thrice as surprised.

"What?" the girl next to him muttered as she leaned up on the bed. He noticed all of a sudden that she was naked. Her large breasts were uncovered when she sat up, and Jon suddenly felt himself stiffen. Then he realized that he was naked with a boner in front of his cousin.

"Oh my god," Sansa said loudly, "you had sex with my roommate? You had sex with Margaery Tyrell?"

Margaery, he recognized that name. She was a friend of Sansa's, but her last name was far more well known to him. He had no doubt that he had met her on a business trip with his dad to Highgarden. But seeing as how they both went to Oldtown University, it would have made sense if they had met at some point without either of them truly knowing. "I guess I did," Jon said, "Sansa, could you do me a kindness and hand me my jeans?"

Sansa reddened and left.

"How about," Margaery placed a long finger on his chest, pushing him down back onto the bed. She reached over with her legs so that her vagina and his cock could meet, "We have some more fun?" Jon had wanted to protest, but she started twitching her hips and slowly rocking on his cock. Somehow, he got even harder. "We can stay for some fun," he grinned.

* * *

Jon Snow had agreed with his cousin that every Wednesday, from noon to five, they would study together in a coffee shop on campus, called "The Quill and Tankard." Oldtown University was filled with half a hundred bars and coffee shops, but they had always preferred the Quill. For one, it was near always empty and it was also an old building. It had been near two thousand years since it had been first raised, though it had been through half a thousand years of renovations and changes. Jon doubted that one-fiftieth of the structure was from the original building. But Robb was a history major, and he loved the history of the place.

So, Jon and Robb had been studying in there. When his football club asked where he went every Wednesday, he had invited them. Soon, Robb had invited his own group of friends. Then Ygritte was invited, then Jeyne, Roslin and then the other Jeyne. Before they knew it, half the people they knew had joined them. The Quill and Tankard had not seen as many patrons since Marwyn the Mage taught at the Citadel.

So Jon felt entirely comfortable bringing Margaery with him. He was surprised that she hadn't joined them sooner, to be honest. Margaery was close with Sansa and vaguely familiar with Jeyne Poole, but she had a Wednesday class at one-to-one forty-four, so she had never joined their little party.

He had his left arm wrapped around Margaery's waist, with him near practically leaning on him. "Gods, I need a nap," she whispered to him. "As do I," Jon replied, "but we'll get you some hot spiced wine, and we'll wake you right up."

* * *

It was a disgustingly cold day that threatened to sleet for almost four days. Jon was surprised that it was so cold, even in the fall, but Jon was taking it better then Margaery. Margaery, that little thing, had worn something thin and "cute" or so she claimed. So she was half-frozen wearing Jon's large black overcoat. So now Jon was the cold one. "Let's hurry up, I need some mulled wine," Jon said to her. He bent over so that his right arm was underneath her right leg, and he hoisted her up, carrying her like a baby. They laughed as he sprinted with her in his arms, her backpack bouncing on his side as he jostled at full speed.

The two had always been too similar for Robb's taste.

They had the same brown hair, the same dark eyes, and the same damn facial expressions.

Robb didn't think it was a stupid question when he asked the question. He had only asked, "So did Aegon win or was it Rhaenyra the Dance?" But when he said that, Jon looked up from his book and Margaery stopped her furious typing. Jon raised his right eyebrow, and Margaery raised her left so that their eyebrows matched each other. "Robb," Jon spoke flatly and Margaery finished for him "You passed 10th-grade history, right?"

The two snapped their faces so they could see each other in both shock and enjoyment. Robb sighed aloud and flopped next to Jon, "Honestly, Marg, I don't really care about that stuff. Marwyn, Ebrose, and Yandel wrote some fantastic stories, but none of it is real history. Now, the wars of the Triarchy, the Volantine Conquests, those are real history. That magic stuff is bullshit," Robb huffed angrily. Robb ignored most of those embellished stories.

"Hey, Robb, you know what Marg's minor is, right?" Theon smiled. Theon always had a habit of smiling like he knew a secret, but this time Robb felt that maybe he was missing something obvious. He knew that Margaery was a Political Science major, but he had never been told what her minor was. But he knew she made Jon read several "History" books, so he took a stab in the dark. "You're an English major?"

Jon and Marg laughed together. "Very clever, Robb," Sansa laughed, "Why'd they put you in charge of the football team?"

* * *

Jon had always owned very little things. He had never liked having clutter in his room, which fit well with Margaery, who very much loved having things. On the two side cabinets, Jon had kept only a lamp on both and a clock on the right side of the bed.

When Margaery moved into his apartment, she had brought with her five large cardboard boxes filled with knickknacks, make-up, and half-empty pens. In the morning, it took Jon near twenty minutes to find where his laptop was plugged in, and even then he wasn't entirely sure if it was his charger or not.

Margaery also had a habit of picking up pieces of paper, reading them, and putting them somewhere else. Honestly, it was kind of Jon's own fault that she had found the invitation.

She was sitting on their kitchen's island, her left leg folded under her and her right lazily swinging. In her hand, she held a small envelope with his uncle's handwriting scrawled on the back. "So can I come with you?" she asked him when he walked into the kitchen.

"Where?" Jon knew that she loved it when he played the fool with her. Pretending to not know seemed like a good way to entice her back into their bed.

"Winterfell, dummy, for Christmas," She flicked the letter onto the floor with her forefinger, "and maybe I can go to your family house on New Years?"

Jon arched an eyebrow, "I thought you'd want to see your family for a holiday?"

She snorted in a polite, disdainful way, "Jon, my Uncle is a dean here, my two of my three brothers are here studying too, and Garlan lives an hour drive away. I already see my family. But you," she hopped off the table and began slinking towards him. She placed an index finger on his shirt, "your closest relative is three provinces off."

"You got me there," Jon grinned, "I'll write back to my uncle."

"Good." She jumped to kiss Jon on the cheek. "Now, what clothes should I bring?"

"Gods, Marg, I don't know? Something warm? Oh, and something formal for New Years."

It was her turn to arc an eyebrow, "Formal?"

"Marg, my father's Rhaegar Targaryen. Targaryens don't have holidays, they just have different occasions for fundraisers."

* * *

"Hey, Aegon! It's been a while, how have you been?" Jon knew his half brother hated calling people on the phone and avoided it unless it was of the most paramount importance. The fact that Aegon had called him was something special in itself.

"Oh, it's been good, Jaehaerys. I just called because-" Jon interrupted him before he could finish.

"You know I like to be called 'Jon.'" Jon put in.

"And I like to be called Griff," Aegon retorted, "Regardless, I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"Rhaenys told me I couldn't bring anyone to one of Dad's fancy parties unless you did. But now? You've opened the door for me. I can bring anyone now!"

Jon was taken back, "Wait, she didn't let you bring anyone because of me?"

The line went silent for a bit before Griff chirped "Well, we all figured you'd never find love again. Rhae was using it to make sure I didn't bring some poor girl with me to piss off Grandpa."

Jon groaned so loudly he thought that Griff might have heard it without the phone, "Gods, please don't tell me you're going to bring someone designed specifically to piss off Grandpa. You know how he gets around fireworks. Adding some poor girl is going to make it so much worse."

Jon heard Griff laugh, "No, don't worry, brother. I'm bringing the nicest piece of ass you've ever met. And her trust fund has a trust fund."

Jon knew his brother preferred southern women, Stormlands and below, which majorly narrowed down the list of rich women for him to date. "Oh my god," Jon said frightened into the phone, "Don't tell me you're bringing one of our dornish cousins?"

Jon heard a laugh on the other side of the line before it went dead.

* * *

"You know Jon, this isn't cold."

He arched his eyebrow, "Oh? Are you claiming that this temperature is nothing to a southern flower?"

Margaery's cheeks were red, but he couldn't tell if it was from the gold of embarrassment. "No, cold is 60 degrees on a rainy fall day. This?" she gestured at everything and nothing, "This is death."

Jon laughed as he walked to the requested car. "You see Margaery, this is why we should have flown commercial."

"Well, what's the point of a private Jet if you never use it? Hmm, Jon?" Margaery said in mock rage. Or maybe real rage. Jon couldn't tell, her voice always got hoarse when she was angry, and the cold would have made it worse.

Jon opened the Über door for her with a mocking, "M'lady," and an off-kilter bow. He had never seen Margaery move so fast in the four months they had been dating. For the flight, she wasn't dressed for a style like she normally did. Off-Campus, there was a near-guaranteed chance that she would be photographed. Of course, Jon had that problem too, but they had taken it in different ways. Marg was taught to always look her best because she would always be photographed. Jon learned that people were going to take pictures of him in every trashy outfit he ever wore, so he was just better off wearing whatever he wanted.

After much arguing, they had compromised. Instead of wearing one of her traditional fancy dresses and intricate braids, she just wore a pair of skinny jeans, messy bun and one of Jon's over large sweatshirts. Jon personally thought that she looked excellent in anything, but it seemed to Jon that she, for the first time ever, was doubting her own appearance. She actually seemed angry against Jon. And he didn't understand why.

"Hey, Jon? Honey?" Margaery said holding her hand. She showed the screen to him. It was a news article from the Lannisport Tribune. His aunt had read it before, it was a trashy news magazine about the rich families. The article was called "Margaery Tyrell: Slumming it like a whore?"

"Oh, my," Jon said when he saw the picture of them boarding their flight.

"Oh yes, Jon," Her voice had the fangs of a cobra, "Now Jon, you owe me. You're going to buy me something expensive."

* * *

"Sansa! Darling!" Margaery called out as she entered the door to Winterfell's main living room. Sansa had been reading on the couch when Jon and Margaery had opened the door. Jon thought it was funny, seeing as how they had seen each other less than a week ago. Sansa and Robb had taken her final early and had left the day before. But Jon and Marg wanted more time to study, so they had taken it three days past.

"Margaery!" Sansa called out. She placed a bookmark into her book and ran over to give Margaery a hug.

"Jon?" a younger voiced yelled from above. The voice was huskier then Sansa's, but Jon knew Arya's voice. "Arya!" Jon called back. What followed was a series of loud crashes and bonks as Arya sprinted full force down the stairs, followed by a massive Thenn Malamute. Nymeria followed Arya down the stairs, her fluffy hair was covered in knots and trigs. Nymeria started barking as soon as she saw Jon.

Jon started fluffing her neck and scritching underneath her ears. But less than a moment later, Nymeria had changed her position and leaped onto Margaery.

The barking had called the other Malamutes. Before Sansa or Arya could hold the door shut, four dappled malamutes had busted through the door, led by a fifth, a massive white Malamute. Margaery was surrounded by a whirling mass of wagging tails, fluffy hair and large, pink tounges. Margaery was making a queer sound as Jon tried to pull off the dogs. At first, Jon had thought she was crying, only to realize she was laughing. She was not moving her arms around to push them away, but to pat their large heads.

Jon whistled sharply, followed by Arya and Robb, and all the dogs went to their respective masters, save Shaggydog and Summer. "Are Bran and Rickon still at school?" Jon asked Robb when he came down the stairs to pick up his pet.

"Jon, you went to Wintertown High School three years ago, you know damn well they get out at three," Robb replied while trying to pull Shaggy away while Jon did the same with Summer.

"Language!" Mrs. Stark yelled from the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mother!" Robb shouted back in a tone that said he wasn't actually sorry. In a much more sorrowful voice, Robb said: "I'm sorry about that, Grey Wind has always been too friendly."

"Don't worry, Robb. Willas is a veterinarian. I've been covered in dog hair since I was eight," Margaery replied in a voice that was filled with joy from seeing the dogs.

"Here," Jon reached down to lift Margaery up, "Let's go upstairs. I have a lint roller in my old room."

Arya laughed and Sansa raised an eyebrow. Robb looked confused at their luggage at the door. "Really? You're going to leave the luggage?"

"Yep!" Margaery yelled cheerfully back down the stairs.

* * *

He was hard, Margaery saw. So hard she was nervous that his jean's zipper would burst. So instead, she had grabbed the left and right belt loops and pulled down slowly. As she did, she felt his hips starting to rock softly. When his pants were near a quarter down his thighs, his cock popped out, throbbing and hard. And ready. Margaery was not half as slow pulling down his boxers. She was quick, and then he was fully exposed. "Now now," she whispered, "You're near naked but I'm not ready yet."

"Do you care if I rip your clothes?" Jon asked her, his voice gruff. She had wanted to say yes, she very much wanted her clothes to not be ripped, but she hadn't said that. She only whispered Jon's named, and before she knew it he had gripped her sweatshirt and had pulled it up, exposing her bra. It wasn't one of her lacy or fancy ones, but that didn't matter. The bras mattered in seduction, but not for them. Jon and Margaery had been dating for months. She didn't need to seduce him. He was hers. Why would he care? He didn't. He had reached around her, grabbed her bra and unclasped it in a single fluid motion.

Her left tit was grasped and a moan slipped out in moments. Jon rubbed his thumb up her nipple, and she felt herself stiffen. And more then that, she felt her self get wet. She squirmed, pushing her jeans down her wide hips till she was as naked as he was. She grabbed his cock with her hand and began to pump up and down. He moaned just as she did, but neither of them was fulfilled. They wouldn't be fulfilled, not unless they came together. She held him in her hand, and they collided. She squirmed in response, and she felt his legs and ass tense. They had danced this dance before, and he found her clitoris simply enough, but they didn't stop. He thrust against her, all the while rubbing her nipples and locking her mouth into his. She rocked her hips, her hands on his back. She felt her nails digging into his back and clawing like a wolf.

Margaery heard a bang, but that didn't matter. Only Jon mattered. Only she mattered. Only they mattered. Both of them were filled in ecstasy and lust and passion.

And Love. Love most of all.

They had finished, and they fell onto a couch next to each other. They were both naked and panting. Margaery felt tired and fulfilled, as his seed filled her and slowly trickled. She heard a knock on the door, and she leaned up to grab a shirt or blanket, only she exposed herself further.

As Governer Eddard Stark opened the door, holding a suitcase in both hands, a lock of joy morphing into one of disgust and surprise. Jon groaned, "Good afternoon, Uncle." Arya popped up next to Eddard, looked through, and laughed.


End file.
